


Fix All My Broken Things

by xstarxchaserx



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Bottom!Will, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild BDSM, Murder, Not Underage, Rimming, Smut, mild d/s dynamics, top!Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14656373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xstarxchaserx/pseuds/xstarxchaserx
Summary: When Will is introduced to Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the psychiatrist is only supposed to be a client for him, just a couple of small repair jobs and nothing more. Will isn't prepared to fall headfirst into feelings, operas, and murder, but there's something lurking behind Hannibal's cool facade. When Will discovers it, his entire life will change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a large age difference in this story. Will is 19, Hannibal is however old he is in the show. **They are both consenting adults.**
> 
> Please feel free to find me on Tumblr: xstarxchaserx

The sun was high and hot, beating down on the exposed skin of Will’s neck and arms. He had been working on the same damn motor for the better part of the morning. It was getting to the point where he knew he needed food and about a gallon of water to replace what he had sweated out so far, but he was so close to getting it working. It was a fairly easy fix, really, or it would be if it wasn’t for half the vegetation from the entire Potomac River being caught in it. Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, and he’d be able to call the project a success.

“Will! Hey, Will!” 

Despite knowing it was Beverly and knowing that she was a friend, the sudden, loud voice startled him enough that his hand slipped and he caught himself on the head of screw. 

“Shit,” he cursed as he watched the blood well up on his finger. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine, just a little _fucking_ warning—,” he cut off as he finally turned to look at her. 

There was a gentleman with her, and that was really the only word Will could think of to describe the stranger who was standing there. The three piece suit he had on was a blend of plaid with a touch of paisley for the tie, a combination that not only shouldn’t have worked on anyone _ever,_ but which was also out of place in the heat wave they were currently dealing with for the beginning of October.

He was also one of the most attractive men Will had ever laid eyes on, but that was neither here nor there. It just made Will… increasingly aware of the grease covering both his shirt and his hands, and that was saying nothing of the rips in the knees of his jeans. 

And the fact that he wasn’t even old enough to drink while this man was at least twice Will’s age and more well off than he could possibly fathom. That much was obvious just from the suit.

“It seems we’ve interrupted your work,” the man said with a flowing eastern European accent. “Would it be better if we came back at a later time?”

“No, no,” Will said, wiping what grease he could off of his hands and onto his jeans. “What can I do for you, Mr…?”

“Ack, sorry, that was rude of me,” Beverly said. “Will, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He came into the store today and mentioned that he had a few things that needed work done on them. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to bring him by so he could run them by you.”

It wasn’t unusual for Beverly to recommend clients for Will. Working at one of the few stores outside of the hustle and bustle of shopping centers, she attracted locals who preferred to keep their business local as well. It worked out for everyone involved.

“Of course. What can I help you with, Dr. Lecter?”

“I have a couple of things that have rather fallen by the wayside as of late that I want to get back in order. The first is a Passport 545. I bought it used with the assurance that it was all in working order and that there was nothing visible that made me think otherwise. I’m not entirely sure what the previous owners had put it through, but the engine just isn’t up to snuff for me. The second is a 1964 Aston Martin DB5 convertible. I don’t take it out much, for obvious reasons, but the last time I did a drive with it, there was a stutter of some sort in the engine that has me worried. Do you think you might be willing to take a look? I’ll pay, of course, just let me know your rates.”

“I’m much better with boats than I am with cars, but I’ll take a look at them both. What does your schedule look like?”

“I run a small psychology practice, so I have varying appointments. Most weekends work best for me. Would next Saturday work? Around 11:00?”

“I believe so. I’ll have to double check…”

Hannibal reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out one, creamy white business card. “Here is my phone number and address. Feel free to call me if anything comes up that would conflict with the timing.”

“Will do. I normally shake hands to seal a deal, but I hope you’ll excuse me for that today on account of the grease.”

“Of course, Mr. Graham. Not a worry. I’ll let you get back to your day, and I thank you for your time.”

As soon as the sleek Bentley drove off, Beverly started laughing. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Your face, William.”

Will crinkled his nose at the use of his full name. “What about my face?”

“When you saw him, your jaw about hit the floor. He’s a bit old for you, darlin’.”

“He’s a client, Bev. I’m not going to jump him.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”  
__________________

At 5 minutes to 11:00, Will pulled his seen-better-days Honda into the parking lot at the Marina. He knew this was a bad idea since the moment he woke up. He couldn’t get Beverly’s words out of his head. He was not, in any way, attracted to one Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He was a client, nothing more. The lack of sleep the night before was definitely not due to nerves. Absolutely not.

He had to get it over with. The cash would really help, and he could be professional, damn it. Just avoid small talk and get to work. 

Or that’s what he told himself as he squared his shoulders and got out of his car. Hannibal was leaning against the side of his Bentley in a perfectly pressed suit with another pattern combination that should have been atrocious but wasn’t. 

“Right on time, Will.”

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

“Please, call me Hannibal. Did you find this place alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hannibal,” he corrected gently. “I had her pulled out of the water last night, so she should be dry enough for you to work.”

“Excellent, thank you.” 

The Primavera was stunning. A few dings on the hull, most likely from the previous owners’ poor handling and neglect.

“Was it a private sale or an auction?”

“Private sale. Why do you ask?”

“I think they may have glossed over some of the more… idiotic things they put her through. These marks… Sailed her in some too shallow water. Probably means the engine got knocked around a bit as well,” Will says as gently as he can, but he doesn’t miss the tightening around Hannibal’s eyes. 

“No, they never mentioned anything about that.”

“Did you tell them it was your first boat?” The look was all Will needed in answer. “Yeah, sorry. People are awful. I’ll see what I can do for her.”

“Would it bother you if I was on deck while you worked?”

“Not at all. I’ll keep you posted on what I find.”

“Thank you, Will.”

He set to work, doing a full once over of the boat. The damage wasn’t as extensive as he had feared, just needed a good cleaning and replacement of fluids. A few pieces were knocked about, some cables loose, but it could have been much worse. 

“How are things going?” Hannibal asked from behind him, and Will jumped. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to bring you a bottle of water. It’s been about an hour.”

“Not a problem. I just tend to be jumpy. Everything here is going well. I’m just about done. Thank you for the water. I tend to be really bad at looking after myself like that while I’m working.”

“Then I’ll be sure to help in that regard,” Hannibal said with a soft smile and Will felt himself flush. “Do you have time to come look at the car today as well?”

“Absolutely. You’re my only appointment today.”

“Excellent.”

Not 20 minutes later, Will was back in his car and following Hannibal’s spotless Bentley to a stunning home. There was a short, semi-circular drive way with a 2 car garage, all lined with neatly trimmed hedges. Will had expected a certain level of opulence from the home, but was unprepared for the eclectic decor on the way to the garage. The art in one room probably cost as much as his entire house, if not twice as much.

“I feel like it’s an issue with a fuel line or something,” Hannibal said as they walked. “I’m not a car expert by any means, so don’t take my word for that.”

“That gives me a place to start. The symptoms of that sort of problem can be a few things, but it points me in a direction.”

“I shall leave it in your expert hands, then.”

The car was both worlds simpler and more complex than the Primavera had been. He started with the fuel line, flushed all the fluids and did a run through on them only to find that there was a leak in the oil line. 

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered as he watched the drip from under the car.

“Problem?” Hannibal asked, and this time Will was at least a little more prepared for it. 

He crawled out from under the car and sat up. “Yes and no. There is a small leak in the oil line. That stuttering you mentioned was because your car was almost out of oil. It’s a very, very good thing you didn’t take it out to drive too much. The entire engine block could have seized and, well, that would not have been pretty.”

“I seem to be having the worst luck with vehicles.”

Will smiles, “This isn’t terrible. As it stands, it just needs a part. The only bad thing is that, since it’s an import and a higher end model at that, I don’t have any of the parts handy that would work with it. I’ll be able to order it once I get home, though. Should take about a week, but I’ll keep you updated.”“Thank you, Will. Please, I made lunch. If you want to wash up and meet me on the patio…”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t. I insist.”

He swept out of the garage leaving Will to do as he said. He was a hard man to argue with, something in his demeanor threw Will off kilter, put him on his back foot. He was usually so good at reading people, but this doctor knocked all of his senses out of wack. 

So he scrubbed the grease off his hands and changed into the spare t-shirt he always kept in his bag and made his way outside. He was relieved to find a relatively simple spread— meats, cheeses, fresh fruits and vegetables. Hannibal was working the cork out of a bottle of wine when he stepped out the door.

“Ah, I’m not—.”

“Old enough to drink? Yes, Beverly mentioned. I’ve always thought that was a strange and arbitrary American law. I won’t tell if you would like a glass of wine, so long as you’ll be safe getting home alright.”

“You are the strangest doctor I’ve ever met.” The words left his mouth before he even thought them through. “I-I’m sorry—.”

“No, you’re quite right. Us psychiatrists are an odd bunch on average. I pride myself in being particularly unconventional.” He smiled, “So… wine?”

“Yes, please.”

The wine was crisp and clean, glowing almost amber in the partial sunlight of the back yard. It paired deliciously with the spread of food Hannibal laid out.

“This is all fantastic.”

“Thank you. I actually cured the prosciutto myself. I’ll confess you’re my lab rat for it.”

“I haven’t had much to compare it to, but this is absolutely delicious.”

“I imagine there were other delicacies you were more invested in while living in… New Orleans?”

Will paused then sighed. “The accent never really fades, does it?”

Hannibal laughs. “No, it doesn’t. I should know.”

“What is your accent? Eastern European is all I’ve got.”

“Lithuanian. A hard one to catch the nuances of even if one is well versed in the various Baltic dialects. It never fades, and I’ve had a lot longer than you to try and break myself of it. How long have you lived in the Mid-Atlantic?”

“It was three years this past June.”

“So… 16? 17? That’s a rather brave move at that age.” Hannibal cocked his head to the side as Will fidgeted. “Why don’t you think that was brave?”

“It was necessary. I did what I had to do in order to survive. That’s not being brave, it’s being an adult.”

“You weren’t quite an adult yet when you made the move.”

“Legally emancipated the second I was able to be. In the eyes of the Louisiana government, I wasn’t a kid anymore.”

“Either way, surviving in spite of all the odds stacked against us is bravery in its purest form. You should give yourself more credit.”

The statements, while simple, shook Will to his core. 

“Ah… I’m sorry,” Hannibal continued, seeing the discomfort. “It’s hard to shut off the psychiatrist some times.”

“It’s okay. I don’t often talk about my reasons for moving.”

“So noted.”

They settled into a comfortable silence despite the awkward exchange, until Will asked “You have a beautiful art collection. Is there a piece that you are particularly fond of?”

“I have a full set of samurai armor that was gifted to me by my aunt, who hails from Japan. It’s a magnificent blend of functionality and art. I was fascinated by it ever since I was a child when I first went to live with her. Are you a patron of the arts yourself?”

“As much as I can be. The street artists in New Orleans and Baton Rouge always captivated me. I’m more attracted to music than physical art pieces. I can appreciate the beauty, but…” he trailed off with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Music holds more of my attention as well. I compose for and play a few instruments, but primarily the harpsichord.”

“An interesting choice.”

“Unconventional, remember?”

“It’s hard to forget,” Will replied with a soft smile, then caught himself. He didn’t want to flirt. He knew it was a bad idea. Knew just how far out of his depth the entire situation was. “Thank you so much for lunch, Dr. Lecter, but I really should be going.”

“Ah… Of course. Let me get the money for you. I was hoping cash would be okay. I realize that we didn’t discuss rates. Is $400 okay for the work you’ve done today? With the same amount after the car is finished?”

“That’s— that’s far too much.”

“A worthy investment, I would say,” Hannibal replied and handed Will a plain white envelope with his name written in sloping calligraphy.

“Doc-.”

“Hannibal, please, and I won’t accept no for an answer. You’ve saved some hefty investments of mine, Will, and are taking the time to order parts and come back. I’m grateful for your help. This is just… the easiest way I have of expressing my thanks.”

Will just nodded in response as he slips the envelope into his back pocket. “I will let you know as soon as I have the part.”

“Thank you. Drive safely.”

__________________________

“How was Doctor Lecter’s?” Beverly asked while Will pulled the water pitcher out of the fridge then slammed the door shut. “Oh no… what did he do?”

“Nothing. He was great. Polite. Filthy rich, obviously. He paid me after we had a glass of wine with this prosciutto he makes himself.” Beverly tried to cover a laugh with a cough, and Will snapped. “What?”

“You’re smitten, William.”

“I am not!”

“When are you seeing him again?”

“I have to finish the car, but—.”

“Smitten!”

“I’m waiting for a part to arrive!”

“You never order parts for anyone.”

“I just—.”

“Smitten, William. Absolutely smitten.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No,” Will sighed, “I don’t, but you are wrong. I am not _smitten_ with him.”

“You owe me a full car detail when you realize I’m right.”

“Fuck off,” he said and flipped her the middle finger on his way out the door, dogs trailing happily behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

The part only took four days to arrive, but Will held off for another full day before making the call. 5:00 the following Saturday, he was knocking on Hannibal’s door, waiting only a moment before it opened for him. 

“Good evening, Will. Please, come in.”

“Hello, Hannibal.” As soon as he stepped inside the entrance way, the smell of something delicious washed over him. “Oh… I’m interrupting your dinner.”

“Not at all, everything is still in the oven.”

“I’ll be out of your hair quick, maybe 45 minutes or so.”

“Please, Will. I have a roast in the oven. It should be done in about an hour, and I’d love for you to join me once you’ve finished. Let me get you settled in the garage with the keys first.”

Hannibal didn’t provide Will an opening to object. He was left to his own devices in the garage, which he was grateful for. He couldn’t concentrate properly with Hannibal in the same room as him. Even without the immediate distraction, the project still took a little longer than he had estimated. Just shy of an hour later, he was scrubbing his hands in the sink. 

“Ah, all finished?”

“Just wrapped up. She sounds infinitely better.”

Hannibal turned the key in the engine and hummed pleasantly. “This is fantastic. Even I can tell the difference already. Thank you.”

“You should see a marked improvement in her handling as well.”

“Thank you, Will. Dinner is done. Please, join me, if you would.” He hesitated briefly before continuing. “I would also understand if you have other plans tonight. It is a Saturday, and not everyone is an old man who prefers a good book on a weekend night.”

Will laughed. “You aren’t old.”

“That’s very kind.”

“And I don’t have any plans either. I’m more of a sitting on the porch with my dogs on a weekend night than anything else, no matter how much Beverly tries to drag me out.”

Hannibal nodded. “There’s plenty of food, so I’m selfishly happy to hear that.”

The dining room that Will had glimpsed before was stunning. A spray of flowers covered the middle of the table, a fresh herb garden hung down one wall, and there was already an open bottle of red wine waiting to be poured. 

“Can I help in the kitchen?”

“No, thank you. I’ll just be a moment.”

When Hannibal returned with two elegantly presented plates, Will took the seat to the right of the head of the table where Hannibal positioned himself. The food was excellent, the meat melting in Will’s mouth, pairing exceptionally well with the wine. 

“Tell me if this is too personal,” Hannibal starts, “but why choose this area to move to?”

“I wanted to be somewhere that was close to nature, that would have a good market for someone of my skills— mostly boat repairs. I have family that’s from this area and vaguely remember it from visits when I was very little. It seemed a good place to get away to while still being semi-familiar territory.”

“That makes sense.”

“Why Baltimore?”

“I love cities, and have lived in several major ones over the course of my life. Baltimore was a good medium between the grit and grind of Philadelphia and the overwhelming DC. John’s Hopkins was another draw. I used to be a surgeon and still occasionally consult or lecture there.”

“Why…? _Oh._ ” Will cut himself off, immediately seeing the answer himself. “I’m sorry, that was as stupid question.”

Hannibal waved his hand. “No, it’s a natural curiosity. I believe your conclusion was right. I lost a patient on the operating table. A missed quirk in her blood made her react poorly to anesthesia. After that, I took a sabbatical and just… never went back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have found my passion for psychiatry. Even the worst experiences can have beneficial outcomes.”

The silence hung in the air as Will fidgeted with his wine glass. 

“I moved up here because of my father,” Will began, breaking the silence. “My mother died when I was young, so it was just the two of us. My father… He never hit me, and he always provided for me— food, shelter, the like. He just… didn’t quite know how to handle me.” He broke off his stream of words and took a sip of his wine.

“What do you think needs to be handled?”

“Well, the therapists called it an ‘empathy disorder.’ An ultra high capacity for empathizing with people, to step in their shoes, to… read them, I guess. It can unnerve folks. Between that and being queer, well. I’m not sure which threw him off more. As soon as I turned 16, I filed for emancipation, packed what I had, and left. I had a car, a good amount of money saved up, and just drove north.”

Hannibal stayed quiet for a moment longer. “I don’t understand how you don’t see yourself as brave. You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.”

“Beverly says the same thing.”

“She’s a smart woman.”

“She is, and a great friend.”

“Only a friend?”

Will laughed hard and deep at that. “Yes, just a friend. She’s like a sister to me.” He chuckled again. “I’m going to tell her you asked. She’ll get a kick out of it.”

Hannibal laughed as well. “I’m certain she will. I’m happy I chose the auto shop she works in to stop by.”

“So am I,” Will replied and felt the flush rise to his face again. He cleared his throat and switched subjects. “Do you have a wife or kids?”

“Ah, no. Aside from the fact that I am significantly less interested in women than I am in men, I was never very fond of the nuclear family ideal society tries to tell us we should all have.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for assuming…”

“Statistically speaking, it was a safe assumption. Besides, while I prefer men, I’m not gay, so it was a possibility.”

They shifted to what Will saw as safer topics— music, art, books— until Hannibal brought out a simple dessert of cream and berries that hit all of the right spots for Will’s sweet tooth without overpowering him.

“Do you always cook like this?”

“Not always quite to this extent,” Hannibal said and looked away. “I may have hoped you would agree to stay for dinner.”

“There’s no need to go through this much effort.”

“It wasn’t a trouble. Besides, I wanted to.” The smile he turned on Will dried up any further comment he could have made. “I was thinking of taking the Aston for a drive. Would you like to join me? See how she handles?”

“I would love to.”

Will, against Hannibal’s wishes, helped to clear the table before they headed out to the garage. The car, much to both Hannibal and Will’s pleasure, handled beautifully in the city. It wasn’t until they got onto some of the less travelled back roads that her grace really came to the forefront.

Will tried to focus on the scenery, a different area than he had been to before, but his attention kept getting pulled back to the way Hannibal’s hands moved on the steering wheel, the precision with which he shifted gears and navigated through the traffic, the way the rising moon colored his high cheekbones. 

“Would you mind terribly if I broke the speed limit?” Hannibal’s voice broke through the soft hum of the engine.

“Absolutely not.”

Oh, that was a bad idea, Will thought almost immediately after the engine roared to life. He felt it to his core. Pressed back into the seat by the sudden increase in speed, Will found it hard to think about anything other than Hannibal pushing him down onto a bed or what it would be like to reach over, now, as they were breaking well past 100 MPH, and put his hand on Hannibal’s thigh…

Fuck, he thought. He would definitely, definitely owe Bev that car wash now.

With that thought ricocheting around his head, the drive back to Hannibal’s felt like it took years. 

“Here is the rest of what I owe you for the repairs,” Hannibal said and handed Will another envelope with his name across the front. “I was wondering… Beverly mentioned that you do all sorts of repairs, not just motors. I have a couple of other things around the house that can use some work— leaky pipes, squeaking doors, the like. I don’t want to monopolize your time, but it would be a few more hours of work and I’d prefer someone I have a rapport with and—.”

“Hannibal,” Will cut him off gently. “That’s fine. Would next Saturday work again? Say 3:00 or so?”

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Before Will closed the door to his car, Hannibal spoke again. “It’s— I know this is ridiculous, but it’s late and a long drive for you. Can you text me when you get home?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, but I will.”

“You were the one who said you were bad at taking care of yourself, so I’ll worry anyway. Thank you.”

A warm feeling settled in his chest as he drove off, and carried him into the next morning as Beverly’s laughter rang through their property when she found him scrubbing the tires of her car.  
____________________

“Will, of course he likes you,” Beverly said as they sat in front of the tv with the pizza they ordered in. 

“He’s just lonely.”

“Will. Will, he asked if you were dating someone.”

“I asked him too!”

“Because you’re smitten.”

“… Bad example.”

“He told you he preferred men.”

“I came out as queer first.”

“No one needs you to come out to them.”

“What—?”

“Besides, you were testing the waters, Will.”

“Beverly—.”

“Will, he took you for a ride in his Aston Martin after cooking you a multi course meal.”

“That doesn’t—.”

“I swear to god, if you two end up fucking, you’re going to do all of the housework for the rest of the year by yourself.” 

Will sighed deeply and took another bite from his pizza. 

“What’s really going on, Will?” Beverly asked. “I’ve never seen you this low on yourself.”

“I don’t know. There’s just… something about him, Bev, and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Is it because you can’t get a read on him?”

“That’s part of it. What impressions I do get of him are… scattered. He has this way about him that makes you want to do what he asks. Not intimidation, or rather, not overt intimidation. Anyone that put together who carries themselves with that much confidence is often intimidating. Hannibal… There’s an undercurrent of _other_ there. Like he’s dangerous, but I can’t figure out _why._ ”

“Will, sweetheart, I think you’re getting too much inside your own head. I think this is nerves and uncertainty because you don’t know where you stand with him, but you like him. A lot. I know I’ve been ribbing on you, because it’s pretty fucking hilarious, but Will…” She took his hand in hers. “You deserve to be happy. Don’t let your anxiety get the better of you.”

He sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. “I’ll try not to.”

Their attention drifted back to the TV where the nightly news was playing. 

_“The Chesapeake Ripper strikes again. At 7:30 this morning, cops were called to the parking lot of the Mondawmin Mall where they found the body of Sheldon Isley, a Baltimore City councilman. The following are pictures of the body that were given to us by a source that wishes to remain anonymous. A warning that the images you are about to see are incredibly graphic.”_

They blurred out the man’s genitals, or what would have been visible of them around the vines and flowers flowing around his body and out of his chest cavity.

“Jesus,” Beverly breathed from next to him. “Isley was an asshole, but… Who could do something like that?”

Will hummed his agreement as his mind took off. It was obviously someone who was offended by the latest proposal to tear down yet another swatch of woodlands to build a cookie-cutter shopping center like the one Isley was found in. It was clever, almost, turning the man who was so opposed to greenery into a cherry blossom tree. The flowers were all poisonous, belladonna in place of the heart, it’s bright blue-purple startlingly clear against the rest of the image.

_Fitting for such a poisonous man._

Will shook the thought off and grabbed for the remote, changing the channel to something hopefully less likely to haunt his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday rolled around far too quickly for Will. He had texted on and off with Hannibal throughout the week, sharing interesting articles about music and art that caught their attention. Will knew he was careening pretty hard into feelings. One last project, he told himself. One last project and he could step away and avoid the hurt this would inevitably lead to, Beverly’s insight be damned. The feelings would fade with time, and that’s all he needed.

And yet, he found himself tugging on a clean, better fitting flannel over a stain free t-shirt with the jeans Beverly had talked him into getting that even he knew made him look great.

He pointedly ignored Beverly’s wolf whistle as he loaded his tool box into the car. He flipped her off when she asked him to text her if he wouldn’t be coming home that night, then climbed into the car to make the now-familiar drive to Hannibal’s. 

“I always appreciate how punctual you are, Will,” Hannibal said after greeting him.

“Thank you. It’s an old habit,” he replied with a smile. “Where would you like me to start?”

There was a small series of repairs that Hannibal directed him to. He started with the dripping under both the kitchen and master bathroom sinks. He refused to think of Hannibal standing under the shower spray, naked save for the soap running down the long lines of his body.

He definitely didn’t think about what it would be like to look up at the art hanging above Hannibal’s bed, stretched out along the massive spread and held down by the pure force of Hannibal himself, both of them hot and naked and panting together as—.

That line of thinking made Will drop a wrench right on his toe. Never had be been more grateful for the sturdy boots he never compromised on wearing while working.

From the sinks, it was adjusting the leveling on two of the doors upstairs. None of the projects took longer than 15-20 minutes. Hannibal checked on him every so often, bringing water and directing Will to the next task. Soon enough, Hannibal directed him to the last item on the list, a stuck window, and told him to come down to the kitchen when he finished. 

Will scrubbed up in one of the upstairs bathrooms before heading back down. He knew Hannibal would ask him to stay for dinner. Knew he should say no.

Knew, as soon as he stepped into the kitchen and saw the flex and pull of Hannibal’s muscles as he chopped vegetables for whatever was on the stove and smelled delicious, that he was going to say yes.

“That was fast,” Hannibal said with a smile. “I’m so grateful that Beverly introduced us. I had thought about trying to learn myself, but I know I would not have been this efficient.”

The praise brought the blood to Will’s cheeks. “It was my pleasure, honestly.”

“Your payment is on the table over there. I do hope you’ll stay for dinner again.”

“I would enjoy that. Can I help with anything?”

“You can open the wine, please.”

The meal was exquisite as always, Will feeling full without being overly so, and the wine was even better than the last bottle they had shared. Their conversation drifted from topic to topic again, and when it made it to work, Hannibal surprised Will.

“I actually accepted a small consulting job with the FBI. I’ll be looking at some files for them from time to time, when they need an outside, psychological opinion.”

“Does this have to do with that most recent case? The one everyone is saying is the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“You are incredibly sharp, Will. It does indeed. Please, don’t let that information pass to anyone else. I’m truly not supposed to speak of it.”

“I won’t, I promise. That must be… fascinating. To be able to work alongside the FBI.”

“Have you thought about going into law enforcement?”

“Once upon a time, maybe. I just… can’t support that institution enough to be a part of it. Consulting is different, don’t get me wrong. I don’t begrudge you that, and it does sound like an amazing opportunity, but…”

“I am bound by a different set of rules and ethics than someone actually inducted into the force would be. In order to be a member of their ranks, a true member, there’s a certain level of… mindlessness that comes with it. Not everyone is made to follow orders, especially not in what is often a morally corrupt system.”

“Exactly.”

“One of my favorite things about you, Will, in the short amount of time we’ve spent together, is that our conversations never lead precisely where I expect them to.”

“I’m happy you don’t find me boring.”

“I don’t think that can ever happen."

After dinner, Will joined Hannibal in his study. The fire was built up, and the combination of the heat and the half bottle of wine and now the whiskey they were drinking made Will feel warm and loose in a way that he hadn’t in a long time. 

They lapsed into a very comfortable silence, broken only when Will gestured to the harpsichord in the corner and asked Hannibal if he would play something for him.

“I would love to. Do you have any requests?”

Will shook his head. “Surprise me.”

He let his eyes close as Hannibal played, allowing the notes of the song he only vaguely recognized wash over him. As the song picked up tempo, Will found himself drawn closer to where Hannibal was sitting. He watched as Hannibal’s hands danced across the keys, eyes closed and notes perfect to Will’s ears. As the melody trailed off to its conclusion, Hannibal opened his eyes and paused when he saw how close Will was. He turned, slowly, to face him.

“You’re beautiful,” Will said. He had meant to say the music was beautiful, almost corrected himself, but the breathless way Hannibal said his name made him swallow his words.

Instead, he took two steps forward and slotted himself between Hannibal’s thighs. “I think I’d rather like to kiss you,” he whispered and trailed his fingers along the line of Hannibal’s jaw. “May I?”

“This is a bad idea,” Hannibal sighed, eyes dropping closed again.

“Spectacularly bad.”

“I’m more than twice your age.”

“So?”

"I should tell you no.”

“Hm… probably.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“I don’t want you to say no either.” He placed his fingers under Hannibal’s chin and tilted his head up so their eyes meet. “Please, say yes.”

“Will…”

“Hannibal.”

“ _Yes._ ”

It was a gentle, almost chaste kiss at first. Will tasted the whiskey on Hannibal’s breath before he pulled away.

“You’re not so intoxicated that I should be worried about your ability to consent to this, are you?” he asked.

Hannibal laughed aloud at that. “I’ve had a little longer than you to build up a tolerance. I should be asking you that question.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since you showed up in my front yard, Hannibal.”

“Is that so?”

Will hummed an affirmative and kissed him lightly again.

“I think it was that ridiculous suit,” he said when he pulled away.

“Ridiculous?” the undercurrent of offense to Hannibal’s tone made Will smile wide.

“No one should be able to pull off plaid and paisley at the same time. No one. And yet, there you were, looking like something that walked out of one of my wet dreams.”

Hannibal smiled at that. “You are a constant surprise, Will. Truly.” He placed his hands on Will’s hips and pulled him closer. “And I suppose I should confess that I felt the same.”

“Ah, yes. I’m at my sexiest when I’m covered in engine grease.”

“You were completely in your element. 100% confident in every move you made. I found it incredibly attractive,” Hannibal said and kissed the hollow of Will’s throat. “Though, I would have to say that watching the wind whip through your curls and the moonlight turning your eyes to a sheet of silver and the breathless laugh as I took a corner far too fast on our drive last weekend might have been just a _bit_ sexier. But only just.”

“Hannibal…”

“Only the truth.”

“I wanted you so badly that night. I almost asked to stay.”

“I wish you would have.”

“I’m asking now.”

“And what, exactly, are you asking for, Will?”

“I’m asking you to take me to bed, Hannibal.”

“To sleep?” Will almost growled. “I did want _exactly_ what you were asking for. Specifics, Mr. Graham.”

“Well, _Dr. Lecter,_ I would like you to take me upstairs, strip us both out of these clothes, and fuck me. Or I could top. I’m not particular so long as this night ends in orgasms.” He kissed Hannibal, deeper this time. “And I wouldn’t be opposed to you making me breakfast in the morning, if you were serious about me staying.”

“That sounds perfect,” Hannibal replied. Will tried to step back as Hannibal stood, but Hannibal pulled him closer and lifted him. At Will’s half outraged exclamation, Hannibal simply smiled. “You did say _take_ you to bed, didn’t you?”

They made their way up the steps to Hannibal’s bedroom. Hannibal took his time undressing Will, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed to the too-warm air of the bedroom. Will sat on the edge of the bed, slowly stroking his now fully hard cock as Hannibal removed his multitude of layers, exposing the thatch of surprisingly dark hair that spanned his chest, the soft curve of his stomach, the muscle definition Will had felt first hand. 

“I stand by what I said earlier,” he said as Hannibal stepped closer to him. “You’re beautiful.”

“Have you seen yourself, dear boy?” the pet name sent a shiver down Will’s body that must have been obvious to Hannibal. “Stunning.” 

And then he was kissing Will, pushing him down onto the bed and up to the pillows. It was exactly as Will imagined, the solid weight of Hannibal pressing down on him, the soft blankets bunching in his fists as Hannibal sucked what was surely a kiss mark onto the junction of his neck and shoulder. His body arched up at the sensation, hips making contact with the hard line of Hannibal’s erection and drawing a gasp out of the both of them.

“What do you want, Will?”

“Anything,” Will sighed into the next kiss. “You.”

Hannibal kissed down Will’s chest, lower still, and when the wet heat of his mouth closed around the head of Will’s cock, Will almost cried out. With one arm, Hannibal held his hips down to stop him from bucking up into his mouth. The other stretched out until he found Will’s hand and laced their fingers together. He only pulled away to bring his fingers down, lower, so they could trace circles around the tight ring of Will’s hole. It didn’t take long before Will was close, and Hannibal pulled his mouth away.

“Were you serious earlier? Would you like me inside of you?”

“Yes, please,” Will whined as he rocked against Hannibal’s fingers. “Gods, anything, Hannibal. I meant it.”

“Patience, then.” Hannibal reached over to the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a condom and a glass bottle of lubricant Will couldn’t fathom the price of. Not that he cared, so long as it would help Hannibal slip inside of him easier.

The lubricant was cold at first touch, but the steady press of one of those long fingers inside of him wiped away any of the discomfort. It felt like an eternity before Hannibal added a second finger, seemingly sticking to his request for patience from Will who was quickly devolving into a combination of curses and pleas for _more, harder, fuck…_

The addition of a third finger and the slow, purposeful stretching seemed to take a millennia. Will was close, so close, teetering on edge. He watched Hannibal through half lidded eyes, saw the sheen of sweat across his forehead, the way his breathing had shifted, hardened, ever so slightly, and knew that he wasn’t the only one affected.

He almost sobbed when Hannibal removed his fingers, and had to push down the feeling again when Hannibal finally, _finally_ pushed his way inside. Despite the careful stretching, it still sent that familiar ache through Will. His eyes closed as he focused on the sensation, and his slight discomfort must have shown on his face. Hannibal stilled once he was fully seated inside.

“Will…”

“Just… a second to adjust. Please…”

Hannibal rested his forehead against Will’s and waited. When Will finally nodded his assent a moment later, Hannibal’s breath shuddered. The first roll of Hannibal’s hips pulled a sigh and a soft _’yes,’_ out of Will’s throat. Will kept his eyes closed, Hannibal’s face still pressed close to his, until one particular thrust hit his prostate and his eyes flew open, gaze connecting with Hannibal’s. 

They stayed that way, eyes locked on each other, as Hannibal’s thrusts got harder, deeper. Eye contact, usually so hard to bear for Will, was instead a blissful connection that he had never experienced before. He could _see_ more of Hannibal this way. The depths in his maroon eyes, the edge of darkness creeping further to the surface. It was Hannibal who broke eye contact first, gripping a handful of Will’s curls and pulling his head back so the stretched expanse of his neck was open to the soft nips and bites Hannibal placed there. 

“Yes, please. Mark me, gods…” Will babbled and felt a particularly sharp bite. “Yes, _fuck!_ ”

The sensation sent him over the edge hard, vision almost whiting out. He didn’t miss the way his come hit Hannibal’s stomach, the way the other man’s eyes were almost fully black with the intensity of his want, the way his rhythm picked up, harder, faster, faltering, until finally, Hannibal stilled completely, head pressed back to Will’s brow as he came.

After they pulled apart and cleaned up, Hannibal went to fetch them both a glass of water. Will found his jeans and fished for his cell phone. 

**9:37 W:** _Can you let the dogs out for me tonight?_  
 **9:37 W:** _And tomorrow morning?_  
 **9:38 B:** _Of course._  
 **9:39 B:** _And you can start with the bathroom when you get home._  
 **9:40 B:** _P.S. I fucking told you so._

“What has you laughing?” Hannibal asked as he wrapped his arms around Will from behind.

“Beverly. I owe her a full, deep cleaning of the house as I told her this—,” he gestured between them, “wouldn’t be happening.”

“Mmm… Well, thank goodness she was right. I was scrambling to find other projects for you just so I could see you again.”

“You don’t need an excuse now.”

“No, I don’t, do I?” He lead Will back to the bed and pulled him close once they were under the covers. 

Will hadn’t slept that well in years.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casual reminder to [ ~*~ Find me on Tumblr ~*~* ](http://www.xstarxchaserx.tumblr.com)

Will’s favorite pastime was taking the dogs out into the fields and woods around their house, seeing the 5 of them bounding off through the brush and chasing each other and whatever else they found out there. It was always comforting, to hear their happy yips and know that home was waiting through the greenery behind them. It was even better at night, when the whole house was lit up in the distance, floating in the dark like the memories of boats in the harbor at dusk from his childhood. 

He heard the crunch of gravel, a sign that a car was coming up the drive way, but paid it no mind until the back door creaked open. 

“Will!” Beverly called. “You have company!”

He turned back to the house and saw Hannibal standing there, in a warm, wool coat with a flash of red at his neck from his scarf—.

_A throat cut open, vocal cords bleached and treated. Songs, haunting melodies, echoing through the theater. Screams. A **symphony.**_

Will shook his head, back to the present, and Hannibal was walking across the grass to him. 

“Hello,” Will said in greeting, forcing a smile through the dark thoughts.

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal replied and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Where were you just now?” 

“My brain wanders occasionally, not always to the most pleasant of places.”

“I’m not interested in only the pleasant parts of you.” Will kissed him again, deeper, but Hannibal saw through the distraction. “Will…”

Will sighed and stepped away, picking up the tennis ball Winston had dropped at his feet and lobbing it off into the woods. “The news. The murder, where the man was turned into a cello.”

“Ah, I had seen that. What brought it to the forefront of your mind now?”

“Your scarf,” Will reached out and ran his fingers across the silk. “The shock of red at your throat.”

“And what did you see?”

The images floated to the surface again, standing on stage with a bow poised and ready to bring the design to life…

“A serenade,” Will breathed finally. “A composition made for someone, to resonate with them.”

“Your mind is a beautiful place, Will.”

“Thinking of murder and seeing art isn’t a beautiful thing, Hannibal.”

“Thinking of death and not shying away from it is.”

“You are an incredibly unconventional psychiatrist.”

“I did tell you as much,” Hannibal replied with a laugh, pulling Will close to him again.

Will tucked his head under Hannibal’s chin and sighed. “What brought you all the way out here tonight?”

“Ah, yes. I hope I’m not intruding. I was hoping I could make you dinner?”

Will pulled back to look at Hannibal’s face and, after a beat, smiled brightly. “You missed me.”

“Of course I missed you, Will. You’ve brought a light to my world I hadn’t realized I was missing. I find myself not enjoying the shadows quite as much as I used to.” Hannibal paused before continuing. “I must also admit that I had an appointment with a rather… attached client today. While he is not intentionally harmful, he is overbearing. It can be exhausting. I wanted your grounding presence to help me settle from that… If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Will flushed and turned away again, losing the upper hand. He whistled for the dogs and watched them return from their various adventures. “Our kitchen probably isn’t up to your standards, Hannibal, but I would love for you to make me dinner.”

“As long as you’re here, I don’t care about anything else. Standards be damned.”

Will laughed aloud at that. “I know you think you mean that, but you don’t, not really.” He leaned up and kissed Hannibal lightly. “It’s alright, though. I love how you fuss.”

“I don’t-.”

“You do so. Come on,” Will wove their fingers together and pulled Hannibal toward the house. “I’m getting hungry."

They ended up eating the simple (by Hannibal’s standards) pan seared chicken and saffron seasoned rice from chipped bowls and drinking overly expensive wine out of mismatched water glasses. Beverly joined them, and the conversation flowed easily enough, straying into the realm of embarrassing stories about Will far sooner than he would have liked. After all the food was gone, Beverly shoved them into their coats and out to walk the dogs again. 

“It will give you a chance to show him the land and let me do the dishes in peace. Go!”

Bundled against the evening chill, they set out with the dogs in tow. Will pointed out the paths to the creek, to the lake where he would fish to pass the time in both summer and winter, how it was his happiest moments, alone with nothing but the sounds of nature to cradle him.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” Will said eventually.

“A nervous habit. Are you still nervous around me, Will?”

“Sometimes, I suppose. I keep waiting for you to realize that I’m just a kid after all, that you have better things to do with your time than waste it on me.”

Hannibal’s grip on his hand tightened and he stopped walking, pulling Will back to face him. “I can’t think of another place I would rather be right now than standing here under the stars with you, Will.”

“You flatter me.”

“Because you deserve to hear the truth about yourself.” 

“Hannibal, I—.”

Beverly’s voice carried across the grounds again, interrupting the moment. “I’m on my way out for the night, you two. Try not to break anything!”

Will grimaced, but Hannibal laughed. “She’s a lovely woman.”

“She really is… The big sister I didn’t think I wanted.”

Hannibal pulled Will closer to him, putting a finger under his chin to tilt his face up. The kiss was light, almost gentle, with an easy slide of lips and tongues that made heat pool low in Will’s stomach. 

“Let me take you inside, Will.”

Those words, so loaded with potential, knocked the breath out of Will.

“Okay.”

Will’s room was simple: a double bed against one wall with two pillows and a hand-me-down quilt on it, a dresser strewn with papers, and book shelves filled with everything from car manuals to forensic psychology text books. Before Will could apologize about the mess, Hannibal kissed him again, heated this time, and it wasn’t long before their clothes were on the floor. 

Hannibal pushed Will onto the bed, maneuvering him until he was on his hands and knees. He pressed open mouthed kisses down the length of Will’s spine, then lower, and Will keened when Hannibal’s tongue swiped across his hole. Hannibal took his time, working Will open with gentle laps and nips, eventually working his tongue inside Will as he gripped at the edge of the mattress. When Hannibal finally pulled away, Will almost begged him to keep going. 

Hannibal sat with his back braced against the wall and patted his lap.

“Come here, Will.”

“But…”

“Please?” Will nodded, and Hannibal pulled until Will’s thighs bracketed his own, cocks lining up so they could rut against one another. Will went to wrap his hand around them both, but Hannibal stopped him. “Not so fast… Do you have lubricant?” 

Will scrambled, half off Hannibal’s lap, to fish the tube out of his bedside drawer and handed it over. Hannibal poured a small amount into his hands and resettled Will so he could reach between his legs and slip two fingers inside him. The sudden intrusion was more than Will had expected, and the moan that spilled from him was half pained. 

“Sh, sh, sh, my sweet boy. You can take it for me, can’t you?”

Will buried his face in the crook of Hannibal’s neck as best as he could while the older man worked his fingers in and out of him, crooking them ever so slightly to hit Will’s prostate. 

“That’s it, Will. You open so sweetly for me, so gorgeous. I want you to ride me, Will. Think you can do that for me?”

Will tensed up minutely, whole body flushing deeper. “I- I’ve never- Ah!” he cut off when Hannibal pushed a third finger inside of him. 

“What were you saying?” Will did his best to glare, but Hannibal just chuckled. “I want you to see the things you do to me, Will. I want you to be able to look down at me as you’re moving your hips and know that _you’re_ the one driving me mad. Please?”

Will could only nod, breathless, as Hannibal continued stretching him, making sure he was ready before easing his fingers out. Will took a condom from the bedside table and opened it carefully, rolling it over Hannibal’s cock and laughing when Hannibal swatted away his hand before he could linger too long. 

Will tried, best as he could, to put on a brave face, but the shaking in his thighs gave him away.

“Easy, love,” Hannibal said, running his hands over Will’s legs as the pet name curled around his lungs, making it even harder to breathe. 

“You’ll tell me if I’m awful at this, right?”

“You won’t be, but I’ll be sure to tell you if I don’t like something. Take your time, at your own pace.”

Hannibal held his cock still while Will positioned himself over it, bracing his hands on Hannibal’s chest and lowering himself slowly. The stretch hurt in the way it always did, despite Hannibal’s careful prep. When he felt Hannibal bottom out inside him, he paused, allowing his body to relax and adjust. At the soft grip on his hips, he opened his eyes and couldn’t help the soft _“oh,”_ that made it’s way from his mouth.

Hannibal’s eyes were half closed, neck stretched, head pressed back against the wall. 

Will wanted to see _more_. 

He rolled his hips, experimentally at first, just a gentle sway, and Hannibal cursed, grip tightening. It was all the encouragement Will needed to repeat the motion, rocking back and forth, lifting ever so slightly and relishing the feeling of taking Hannibal back inside of him. The only sounds for a time were their heavy breaths until Hannibal spoke. 

“Bring your knees forward, love…” 

Will did, and the change in angle brought Hannibal’s cock against his prostate on every thrust. He groaned loudly, bringing his hands to Hannibal’s shoulders and picked up the pace of his thrusts. 

“That’s it, Will. Just like that…” The praise made Will whine, more so as Hannibal continued. “You feels so good around me, so tight. I’m going to come, love, but I want to see you first. Can you come for me?”

That was all it took before Will was coming between their chests, white stripes of come spattered across the hair on Hannibal’s chest. All at once, Will’s legs were shaky, as he buried his head in the crook of Hannibal’s neck again. Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will, one hand working its way into his curls, whispering nonsense words over and over as he held Will in place and thrusted up into him. It wasn’t long before Hannibal’s body tensed and he was spilling inside Will.

They sat like that, wrapped in each other, until Hannibal shifted them to lay side by side, Will’s head resting on his chest.

“There’s a gallery opening next weekend,” Hannibal started, long enough later that Will’s eyes had started to drift closed, “with a performance by one of the world’s leading sopranos. I would love for you to join me.”

Will’s heart fluttered. “I… I wouldn’t have anything to wear to an event like that.”

“I can handle that for you.” Will huffed, but Hannibal pressed on. “I mean it. Let me take care of you. The tailor I go to has a fantastic selection of suits that I think would look lovely on you. Not as… ridiculous? That was the word you used, yes? Not as ridiculous as mine are.”

“Hannibal, I’m—. I don’t—.”

“Will, I like to buy people things. It’s… a personality quirk. I like making people I care about happy.”

“You don’t have to buy me anything to make me happy.”

“I’m aware, but I would like to anyway.” He kissed the top of Will’s head. “I want to take you to gallery openings and performances and dress you in perfectly tailored suits because you deserve to be surrounded by beautiful things.”

The words made the connection happen in Will’s mind and he breathed out a soft, “Oh.”

“Hm?” Will shifted, uncomfortable, a movement Hannibal picked up on instantly. “What is it?”

“You can buy me things.”

Hannibal looked down at him. “What happened in your mind right now to sway your opinion?” When Will stayed quiet, Hannibal kissed him again. “I remember what you said about your empathy levels. Was it that?” 

Will nodded. “Yes, I can’t always stop it or choose when it happens.”

“What did you see?” Hannibal asked, and Will burrowed his head into Hannibal’s chest again. “I won’t be upset with you, Will. I am genuinely curious.”

Will sighed and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he spoke. “Money wasn’t always present in your life. You know what it’s like to go without, to want. Your aunt shifted some of that, gave you both what you needed and some of what you wanted, but it didn’t erase the memory of being hungry. Now that you have money, you want to buy frivolous things because you can…” He trailed off, unsure if he wanted to continue or not.

“What else?” Hannibal pressed.

“It’s also a mark of ownership, a subtle one, one just for you. A way, not to garner affection, but to make someone feel obligated, to owe you. While you see and appreciate the value of financial capital, sociopolitical power means so much more. You can’t go hungry again if there are always people willing to assist, if not out of love, out of reciprocation.”

Hannibal had stiffened while Will spoke and stayed silent once his words drifted off.

“I… I’m sorry,” Will said after a minute. 

“No, no. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m… in awe, really. You are brilliant. Incredible.”

“That’s not what people usually say.”

“Most people are idiots,” Hannibal replied, and the blunt tone surprised a laugh out of Will. “It’s true. I wonder, though…” The silky edge to Hannibal’s voice made Will’s heart thud hard, harder still when Hannibal rolled over so he was more fully on top of Will again. “Even knowing that, or rather, especially know that, why the shift? Do you like the idea of those ‘subtle marks of ownership,’ as you put it?” His voice dropped a pitch lower. “Do you like the idea of being mine?”

Will shuddered at Hannibal’s words. They were true, after all. He felt safe in Hannibal’s company, despite whatever lingered under the surface, and the idea of being marked as _his_ in some way made heat pool in Will stomach. 

“Yes… Sir,” Will whispered, pushing a boundary he wasn’t sure where the edges sat, for either him or for Hannibal.

Hannibal reacted beautifully, all but growling as he kissed Will, all teeth and sharp edges, and Will felt himself growing hard again. Hannibal’s hand ran down Will’s flank while the other held his wrists above his head. 

“You cunning, cunning boy,” Hannibal whispered and let his hand trace even lower, bypassing Will’s cock to press two fingers into Will’s still stretched and slick hole. Will bucked at the intrusion. “I’m going to enjoy showing you off. Shake up high society a little with your Botticelli curls and that sharp tongue of yours. Going to dress you up like a doll, a play thing just for me. Do you like that idea, hm?”

Will could only whimper in response as Hannibal’s fingers set up a hard pace against his prostate. A sharp bite to one of his nipples made him cry out. 

“I asked you a question, Will.”

He whimpered again. “Y-yes. Anything, Hann-.” Another bite to the other nipple made him choke on his words. “Yes, Sir,” he corrected and Hannibal purred. 

“That’s better. Yes, I want to dress you in fine clothes and take you to the opera and parade you around in front of people who will be scandalized by your very presence. Everyone will know you’re sleeping with me.” His words made Will moan louder. “Oh… You like that, don’t you? Knowing that everyone will know just what we’ve been up to? Perhaps I could leave a love bite where it will show above your collar. A sign that you really are my _slut._ ” 

Will’s orgasm hit him hard

“You devilish boy,” Hannibal said when he pulled away. “The things you do to me…”

“The things I do to _you?_ ” Will huffed, but his lips were curved in a soft smile. “Can I return the favor?”

“In the morning. I am not 19 anymore, Will, and you should go clean up.”

Will stood and stretched before looking over his shoulder at Hannibal. “Will you stay? Tonight?”

“Of course.”


	5. Chapter 5

Three days after their night together, Will found himself standing in a tailor’s shop where everything he looked at seemed to cost more than the entirety of his wardrobe. Hannibal was busy chattering with the wizened old man behind the counter, whose face had lit up when he saw who walked in. Will ran his hands along the multitude of pocket squares that decorated one of the tables, in more colors and patterns than he could have fathomed. It was really no wonder Hannibal was fond of this place. 

Hannibal had asked him if he had any preferences on the drive over to the shop, and Will was being honest when he said he had no idea where to begin. He had only ever shopped for a suit once, though the local second-hand store probably _shouldn’t_ count. It was both refreshing and terrifying, letting Hannibal take the reigns. 

Terrifying mainly because Will wasn’t sure yet what it was about the man that made him want to toss his better judgement out the window. 

“Mr. Graham, if you would, I can take your measurements now.” 

Will settled back into the shop and out of his own thoughts, realizing that was probably the second time the man, Mr. Carstairs, had said his name. “Ah, yes. I'm sorry, my mind was off somewhere else.” 

Mr. Carstairs waved his hand, "Not a problem, Mr. Graham. I'm used to it with this one here." 

He directed Will to stand on a short pedestal in the middle of the room while Mr. Carstairs fluttered around him with a tape measurer. While he worked, Hannibal talked. Words like “single-breasted” and “peaked lapel” made their way around, though Will only vaguely knew what they were speaking of. He was pleased to hear Hannibal steer Mr. Carstairs away from the patterns he preferred and into a realm more suited to Will’s comfort. Once the measurements were taken, Mr. Carstairs disappeared into the back room to pull a few choices out. Hannibal took the chance to wrap his arms around Will.

“How are you doing, Will?”

“Trying to understand how you do this all the time.”

Hannibal laughed. “It’s only the once. When Mr. Carstairs gets his measurements, he can keep referencing them, unless any changes in muscle shape or weight occur.”

“I’m going to have to limit the amount of things you buy me, aren’t I?”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything, Will.”

“It would drive me absolutely crazy if I came home to a dozen new suits, Hannibal. I swear it.” 

“Maybe not a dozen… A tuxedo, a summer suit, a heavy winter fabric…”

“Hannibal-.”

“Would it make you feel better if I promise you that I won’t go overboard?”

“Overboard by whose definition?”

Before Hannibal could respond, Mr. Carstairs bustled back into the main room with a selection of suit jackets. The first few they tried on were very traditional, pressing into stuffiness. It wasn’t until the last one that they pulled on— a deep blue wool with black silk lapels and a single button closure— that Will felt like they were on the right track. 

The fact that Hannibal’s pupils had all but eclipsed his irises as he circled Will solidified Will’s opinion. 

“Mr. Carstairs,” Will said, interrupting the tailor’s rambling compliments, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s face. “I believe this is the one.”

“Excellent choice, Mr. Graham. Let me get you the trousers, then we can start pinning it to fit.”

When Mr. Carstairs bustled back off to the back room, Hannibal spoke. “You look gorgeous, Will.”

“Thank you, Hannibal… I was thinking, though…” Will replied and pulled Hannibal close by the knot in his tie. “I know this will look great at the performance, but you know where it would look better?”

“Hm?”

Will brought his lips just a hair’s breadth away from Hannibal’s and whispered, “On your bedroom floor.”

The scandalized look on Hannibal’s face warring with just enough arousal made Will laugh until he cried. 

_________

There wasn’t much time before the show began for Hannibal to speak to the many people he so obviously knew at the gallery. There was no shortage of attention paid to Will, constant questions about their relationship — all subtle, of course — dominated every conversation until it was finally time for them to make their way to their seats. The show was unlike anything Will had seen in person. He had heard opera music, but never found himself immersed in it as they were. 

To be honest, he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the Soprano’s performance more or watching the serene look on Hannibal’s face, eyes closed, tearing up, wholly entranced. 

But, goodness, he was halfway to being in love with the man. 

When the performance had ended, Will joined Hannibal on his feet in a round of applause that was more than well deserved. Any hopes of making a quick exit were quickly sidelined by old acquaintances requesting dinner parties and severely less subtle attempts to find out just who, exactly, Will was. It was all trivial, brushing past Will’s mind like nothing. 

Until Franklyn Froidevaux.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter. It’s good to see you here.”

“Ah, yes, hello.” 

It was obvious both to Will and the woman they had been speaking with that Hannibal did not want to speak to this man. He was short, sweaty, visibly nervous. Incredibly unassuming, but there was something in the way that he addressed Hannibal that made Will want to bare his teeth. Far too close to personal attachment and emotion than what should be present in a doctor/patient relationship, the revelation of which did not please Hannibal at all. 

“This is my friend, Tobias. He owns the Chordophone music shop. Sells some incredible instruments. Doctor Lecter here plays several as well, Tobias. He could have been on that stage just as easily as the soprano was tonight."

“His eyes kept wandering,” Tobias said with a laugh, a reference to Franklyn. “More interested in you than what was happening on the stage.”

_Ah._ That note of possessiveness, both jealous of Franklyn’s attraction to Hannibal and demeaning the man at the same time. More than the grating flattery of Franklyn, Tobias' cold demeanor made alarm bells start ringing in Will's mind.

“Oh, careful. We want to save something for us to cover in our session next week. Now if you’ll excuse-.”

“And who is this?” Franklyn interrupted.

Hannibal’s hand tightened, almost imperceptibly, where it had come to rest on Will’s arm. “How rude of me,” Hannibal said. “May I introduce Will Graham? He’s my…” Hannibal trailed off, looking for a word for something they had not discussed.

“Partner,” Will said quickly, looking at Hannibal to confirm his words were okay but really just wanting to make it clear to this patient that his Doctor was not available. At Hannibal’s small smile, Will continued. “I’m his partner. It’s always a pleasure to meet an… acquaintance of Hannibal’s.” 

If there was a note of bitterness in Will’s voice, he figured he was justified by it with the way Franklyn’s face quickly turned red and the muttered, “Partner?” he all but spat out.

Will tucked his fingers in the crook of Hannibal’s elbow and met Franklyn’s scathing gaze. “Yes, partner.”

Hannibal easily brushed the comment off, and Will admired the quick way he shifted the conversation and allowed them to make their exit. It wasn’t until they were in the car that Will spoke. 

“Was that the patient you mentioned? The overbearing and attached one?”

Hannibal sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. He has become rather… fond of ending up at the same places I am.”

“He’s stalking you?”

“I wouldn’t got that far. I am taking precautions, though.”

Will sighed and turned his head to look out at the streetlights passing by. “I never really thought of your job as being a dangerous one, but I suppose when you’re working with mentally unstable clients, to whatever degree, there are risks associated.”

“That is very true.”

“Is that part of why you chose it? After stepping away from surgery? A different sort of danger with not quite so high of a mortality rate?”

“…Perhaps,” Hannibal said after a moment, obviously unprepared for the observation. “I do, very much, adore your mind, Will.”

It wasn’t until they were in Hannibal’s room, halfway off with each other’s suits, that Hannibal finally asked the question Will had been dreading. 

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you called yourself my partner.”

“I- It was-.”

“Said out of jealousy, yes, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a piece of truth there, which is why I'm asking for clarification instead of making assumptions. I will not be offended either way, Will, I just want to know if you meant it.”

“I… I would like it to be true.”

Hannibal smiled brightly, then, and all sense of worry Will had left him at once. “While I wouldn’t have been offended either way, I must say, I am happy your wants line up with mine. Is partner the term you prefer?” 

“Yes,” Will replied. “Boyfriend is… It sounds small. Lover is too intimate for casual conversations. Partner puts us on a more even level.”

“Are you worried about inequalities in our relationship?”

“I am constantly worried about a million different things, Hannibal. As they come up, I will talk with you about them.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise. Now… take me to bed. I’ve wanted you out of that suit since I arrived earlier.”

Will laughed, happy and full, as Hannibal scooped him up and dropped him among his pillows. Happier still when Hannibal pulled his pants off and dropped them unceremoniously onto the floor.

He was happy enough that any lingering thoughts on Franklyn, and more disturbingly, Tobias, evaporated.  
_________

Will found himself spending more and more time with Hannibal, choosing to go to Hannibal’s more often than he stayed in his own bed. He kept up with his freelancing, but as winter settled down around Baltimore, there were less boating activities and less repairs because of it. He spent some days while Hannibal was at his office curled up in a chair in the study, flipping through books or working on the applications for various colleges Hannibal had pointed him in the direction of. 

Will didn’t want to know how Hannibal expected him to pay for these schools, but it helped to pass the time. 

One night after dinner, Will was sitting with his head in Hannibal’s lap on the couch in the study. Will was reading another text book on forensic science while Hannibal sat pretending like he wasn’t sketching Will. 

“Do you have plans for the holidays, Will?" Hannibal asked. "Or, rather, do you celebrate any of them?”

“I don’t, to both of those questions. Not really, at least. I was raised Catholic. That brought all of the holiday trappings with it, but my family situation wasn’t the best. The holidays were always bittersweet, often without gifts of any kind. It was more just for show. The last few years, Beverly and I have spent Christmas together, eating take out and watching movies. She reconnected with her mother this past summer and is heading home to spend some time there next week.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No. I’m genuinely happy for her. It hurts, a little, as things like that always do, but I don’t have a problem spending holidays alone.”

“Perhaps you won’t have to spend this one alone either? I’d love to have you here, Will. More than anything.”

“I… Are you sure?”

“I usually have a small dinner on Christmas Eve, just with some friends, some colleagues, nothing big. Christmas Day, though, I usually take to myself.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude or interrupt—.”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I thought you would. I want you there, Will. I wouldn’t be able to relax if I knew we were both unburdened by plans and could be spending time together but weren’t.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll be here.”

“I am.”

Will smiled and tried to go back to reading his book. It wasn’t long until another thought came to the surface of his mind. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“I don’t want anything, Will. I mean it. Just you here is enough,” Hannibal said and ran his fingers through Will’s hair. “I must be getting to bed soon. I have a full day of appointments tomorrow, and… Well, not all of them are the easiest people.”

“Are you seeing Franklyn?”

Hannibal sighed. “Yes. I am planning on giving him a referral during our session. He is unaware, of course, but I simply cannot let it go any further. I should have done this when he insulted you that night. It’s just become too much. He needs help that I cannot give him.”

“Will you be safe?”

“Of course, Will. No need to worry about me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this wild ride of a story! Your comments have been really amazing and have kept me going through a very rough week. You're all amazing! 
> 
> You can also all thank DaringD for giving me the inspiration for an epilogue. There will be one more chapter! It just may take me a little bit of time, but I will try to have it up by the end of the weekend.
> 
> [ ~*~ Find me on Tumblr ~*~* ](http://www.xstarxchaserx.tumblr.com)

Will found himself standing outside the door to Chordophone the next day. For as much as Tobias had set off alarm bells and despite Hannibal’s protests, he wanted to find a good present. He wasn’t even sure if he could afford anything in the shop, but wanted to at least have a look around. He noted the cop car parked on the block, not unusual in Baltimore, and brushed it off. 

Until he walked into the shop, that is.

There was an officer on the floor, bleeding out. Will pulled out his cellphone and called 911, informing the operator of their location. It wasn’t until after he was off the phone, that he heard the frantic whispers from the officer. 

“My partner. He’s got my partner…”

“Where?”

“Down… down…” 

Will followed his gaze to a door at the back of the room. As quietly as he could, Will unclipped the officer’s gun, metal cold against his heated skin, and made his way down the steps to the basement. 

He wasn’t prepared for the jars holding intestines, the cello strings soaking, stretching, hanging everywhere. It was easy to fit the pieces together, the guts, macabre music, _a symphony_ , as Will had called it. 

Tobias was the cello murderer. 

This was all his design. 

The knowledge tightened his grip on the handgun he held, and he approached a set of medical curtains where there was water running. He pulled them to the side fast, prepared to shoot, but found the body of the second cop instead. 

He heard the soft footstep behind him when it was already too late. The strings came around him, cutting into his hands where he put them up to protect his face. 

“Will Graham. What a pleasure. I was wondering if you knew about Hannibal, if you would eventually come for me. I’m not surprised. Even monsters like he and I need friends. Need attack dogs. I’m on my way over to see him now, I believe he’s in the middle of his appointment with Franklyn. Shame he won’t get a chance to see my handiwork with you.”

The strings tightened, pulling Will closer to Tobias, but he had just enough wiggle room to bring the gun up and hope to everything he didn’t lose his hearing completely before he pulled the trigger. 

Tobias screamed, or Will thought he did, at least, from the way he staggered and gripped at the side of his face. There was nothing but ringing in Will’s ears. He thought it was the same for Tobias until the other man looked up, angry and harried, and took off. Will sank to the ground, pain radiating through his head and hands, only moving again once the door to the basement kicked open and several officers flooded into the room.

The man leading the group was sharply dressed in a suit with a long jacket over it. The look on his face was pure anger, and the shotgun, one of several guns leveled at him, was particularly terrifying. It took a moment until Will managed to speak. 

“I called it in. My name is Will Graham. The owner of the shop, Tobias, he’s the one you’re after. He’s on his way to my partner’s office. Said he was going to kill him. Please.” 

“Who is he after?” the leader said. 

“My partner, Dr. Hannibal Lecter—.”

“Dr. Lecter?”

“You know him?”

“I’m Jack Crawford, head of the BAU. Dr. Lecter consults with us from time to time. You said he’s in danger?”

“Yes, he is. Please, I need to get to him.”

“You need a medic.”

“Please, Agent Crawford. I need to see him.”

It wasn’t until Jack had given Will his word that he would drive him to Hannibal’s office as soon as he was patched up, that there was a team on their way already, that Will gave in. It didn’t take long to get his hands wrapped, the rest of him okay besides the increasingly less severe ringing in his ear, and then he was bundled into the passenger seat of a large, black SUV.

“How did you meet Dr. Lecter?”

“I was doing repairs on his boat. A friend introduced us.”

“I didn’t realize he had a boat. That man is so full of layers.”

“He really is.”

“And how old are you?”

“Over 18, Agent Crawford. I can give you my ID, if you need it, but Hannibal hasn’t done anything I haven’t explicitly asked him to.”

“Just doing my job, kid.”

“I know,” Will sighed, feeling defeated and terrified. “Hannibal said he started consulting with you recently? With the Ripper Murders?”

“He’s not supposed to be talking about that to anyone.”

“He didn’t tell me any details, I can promise you that. I was the one who guessed what case he was working on with you.”

“How did you guess?” 

“When he told me he was consulting, it was right after that murder in the shopping center parking lot. The guy who was made into a tree, and everyone was talking about it being a Ripper case. It was an easy conclusion to come to.”

“Of course he would pick someone as smart as he is,” Agent Crawford says. There’s a small smile on his face, but it quickly faded. “We’re here, Will.”

Will was out of the car as soon as it stopped, and it was only Agent Crawford’s command for him to wait behind him that kept him from running through the police tape. He was so ready to get into the office, regardless of the outcome. He needed to _see_ what happened. He needed to see Hannibal. 

But on the threshold to the office, Will hesitated. 

It took him a moment to pull his emotions back to a manageable level, so when he stepped into the room, he was able to see clearly. 

He took in the position of the bodies, the already full coroner’s bag with Franklyn in it, the one being laid out next to Tobias’ body. The black, metal sculpture of a buck next to Tobias’ head, the obvious cause of the blood covering the back of his skull and pooling onto the floor around him. Will noted the table it had sat on, tipped in a way that certainly looked like it could have fallen over and done the damage during the fight. 

But the angles were wrong. 

Everything was wrong. 

Everything except the fact that Hannibal was sitting at his desk, bruised, bleeding, but smiling softly at him. 

_”Even monsters like he and I need friends.”_

Tobias’ words circled in his head as he made his way over to where Hannibal was sitting. 

“I was worried you were dead.”

Will could only force a smile through the maelstrom of emotions going through him. He was saved from responding by Agent Crawford’s approach.

“Tobias Budge turned a man into a cello. He killed two Baltimore Police officers. Almost killed a civilian. And after all of that, his first stop is here, at your office.”

“He came to kill my patient.”

“Your patient… is that who Tobias was serenading?” Will spoke, catching Hannibal’s eye. 

“Serenading?” Agent Crawford asked. 

“Hannibal and I had discussed that case, at least a little bit, after I found out he was consulting with you. It was hard to miss on the news every night.”

Hannibal was still looking at Will as he spoke, but turned back to Agent Crawford. “I don’t know. I just… I know that Franklyn knew more than he was telling me. He told Tobias that he didn’t need to kill any more. Then he broke Franklyn’s neck. Then he attacked me…”

“You killed him?” Agent Crawford asked. 

Hannibal nodded, more than Will had expected him to do, but that seemed to pacify Agent Crawford who walked back to the crime scene technicians. Will took the opportunity to lean against Hannibal’s desk, as close to him as he could get. 

“I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world, Will,” Hannibal said, softly.

“Nah, I got here on my own, Hannibal, but I appreciate the company.”

_This man is a murderer,_ Will thought, looking down at Hannibal. It was a thought that should have made him run, should have made him speak to Agent Crawford or any of the other agents in the room. It was a thing that should have pushed him away. 

Instead, it made him curious.

Ages later, he was the one who asked, “Shall we go home?”  
__________

They had a quiet dinner, neither very hungry, and they spent most of the evening in silence. Will took every chance to touch Hannibal— a brush of fingers, a hand on his shoulder, any reminder he could get that Hannibal was still there with him. There was part of his mind rebelling against him, questioning his own actions, his own sanity. He was dining with a murderer. Not just Tobias, that was self defense, but there were others. Will knew that, with certainty, and yet… 

“Are you alright, _mylimasis_?”

Hannibal’s voice broke through Will’s thoughts, and he realized he hadn’t turned a page in the book he was reading for some time.

“I’m fine just… lost in my head, I guess.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Help me shut my brain off for a little while?” 

That would help, wouldn’t it? Will hoped as much. Hoped there was a way he could turn his mind off, could wipe the day’s events from his memory. If he could forget, maybe they could work it out. Maybe he could still have Hannibal. 

_Maybe it was that darkness that had attracted you all along,_ the voice in his head said. 

“I want to take you to bed, Hannibal. Please.”

He needed the distraction, more than anything.

They ended up in Hannibal’s bedroom, and Will carefully undressed him, aware of every injury. He placed light kisses over Hannibal’s bruised ribs, nipped against his swollen lip, gently ran his fingers over Hannibal’s thigh. 

“I don’t know how vigorous I can be tonight, Will…”

“Just lay back. Let me take care of you.”

Will kissed over every mark, every inch of bruised and battered skin, licked at the edges of bandages. The man before him was just that, a man, not a monster as Tobias had said. It was easy to pretend like that was what mattered as Will worked himself open and took Hannibal inside of himself. Easier still to pretend like it was the human side of Hannibal he had wanted all along. 

When really, it had been all of him. 

“Come back to me, Will…” Hannibal said. “I won’t do this, no matter how gorgeous you are, if you aren’t fully present here with me.”

_Fully present._

That was just it, wasn’t it? Will had been present, had known all along that there was something dark lurking inside of Hannibal. It had attracted him as much as it had pushed him away. But _why_ had it pushed him away?

_Because it echoed everything already inside of me,_ he thought, and wasn’t that a hell of a thing? 

Everything slotted into place, the doors he had closed to keep himself out of the darker parts of himself opened, and it felt like coming home. Coming back into himself. How much had he hidden away? How much had be blinded himself to? How much had he run from?

Looking down at the monstrous, beautiful man below him, he realized he was finished running.

“I’m here with you, Hannibal,” he said, voice shaky but strong. “Always have been.”

“Are you sure? I would understand if you’re frightened.”

“Why would I be frightened?”

“I did kill a man today.”

Will was quiet as he rolled his hips and pulled a soft sigh from Hannibal. He weighed his options, not ignoring the fact that the man below him— no matter how in love with Will he was (and he definitely was, Will could see as much) — was definitely dangerous, and decided that honesty was his best option. 

He lets his eyes drop closed, sees Hannibal with the statue, sees the events in the office all play out in his mind. 

“It wasn’t the first time, though…” He opens his eyes and meets the sharp look on Hannibal’s face head on. “Was it?”

“Will…” There’s an undercurrent of ferocity there, in Hannibal’s voice, just bordering on a growl. 

“No, it definitely wasn’t. You’ve been doing this for a long time,” the words spilled out as the circuits connected for Will. “Started when you were young. Developed your craft, narrowed your prey. Those who are an affront to your sensibilities. The rude, the overbearing, those who get in your way. Perfected your design. You made them into an exhibit, cultivated their rudeness into something beautiful. Elevated trash into _art._ ”

“Will…”

“The murders, the Ripper murders. That’s you. That’s your work.”

Hannibal flipped them over and pinned Will’s hands beside his head. They were still together, still conjoined, and Will found himself so incredibly close to coming. 

_“Fuck, Hannibal.”_

“That delightful brain of yours, Will,” Hannibal whispered as he continued to thrust into Will. “Whatever shall I do with it?”

“Preferably leave it intact.” Will tried to roll his hips to meet Hannibal’s, but Hannibal shifted his grip to hold Will’s hands in one of his own and press his other down on Will’s thighs so he couldn’t move. 

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“I’ve never had an appropriate moral compass, Dr. Lecter. _Ah, fuck, right there._ I thought we had been over that.”

“You amaze me, Will.”

“Your work is beautiful, Hannibal.”

“Fuck,” Hannibal swore, and brought his lips to Will’s neck. “If you’re lying to me, Will… If you betray me…”

“I’m not, Hannibal. I wouldn’t. I… I love you entirely too much to do that.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“I do, Hannibal, I swear it.”

“I love you, Will. I love you too.”

“Good…” Will pushed until Hannibal allowed him to flip them back over. He started moving his hips, taking Hannibal deeper, moving the way Hannibal had shown him what felt like a whole lifetime ago, and leaned down so he could bring his lips to Hannibal’s. There was more teeth than tongues, but it was exactly what Will needed. He moves his lips over, so he could nip along Hannibal’s jawline, down across his pulse, to his ear where he spoke again. “I want you to mark me, to make it clear to everyone that I am yours.”

“Will…”

“Because I am, Hannibal. All yours. Always.”

It didn’t take more than that before Hannibal’s teeth sank into the skin where Will’s neck met his shoulder. The puncture was sharp and hot, and his hips stuttered at the sensory overload. Hannibal’s arms came around him and held him in place so he could thrust up inside of him. It was too much, more than anything Will had ever felt, and when his orgasm hit him, it was like a physical punch to his gut. He was barely aware enough to realize that Hannibal had come as well. 

The next time they kissed, Will tasted the metallic taste of his own blood in Hannibal’s mouth. He was fairly certain it would not be the last time that happened.

Or, he hoped not, at least.

Later, when they were cleaned up and the bite mark was taken care of, Will was curled against Hannibal with his head on Hannibal’s chest. 

“I’d like to see you, some time.”

“Will…”

“Not yet, maybe not for a while, but I would like to see.”

“It’s one thing to know what I am, in an abstract fashion, but entirely different to watch.”

“I can already piece together so much of it on my own, just from knowing the cases the way I do. The way the media has. You know, at least a little, what my imagination is like.”

“That is very true, Will,” Hannibal said and pulled him closer. “I am… not used to letting people see that side of me. Even Tobias… he had come to my house for dinner, tried making me believe that he wanted to be connected to me. We see how that ended.”

“I understand wanting to protect yourself Hannibal, and I certainly won’t ask you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, Will… for everything.”

Will hummed in response. “I do have one request, though…”

“Oh?” Hannibal asked, body tensing again.

“If you do ever end up killing me, make it interesting. I’d hate to not get to experience the full breadth of your creativity if it came to that.”

Hannibal was silent, clearly startled, then laughed. “A fair request… And you, Will. If it every came to it, tell me… How would you kill me?”

Will pushed himself up onto one arm so he could look down at Hannibal, meeting his eyes directly. 

“With my hands.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, y'all. Thank you so much for sticking with this story. I had such writer's block working on it, but now that it's out there and I'm getting all your kudos and comments... It means a lot to me. Take a peep at some of my other stuff, and keep an eye out this fall for my entry into the Murder Husband's Big Bang Challenge!
> 
> And now, 1,000 words (ish) of nothing but holiday fluff. 
> 
>  
> 
> [~*~ Find me on Tumblr ~*~*](http://www.xstarxchaserx.tumblr.com)

Will sat at the counter in the kitchen, watching Hannibal make Christmas breakfast for them both. He was wrapped in one of Hannibal’s sweaters— a beautiful, bright red that was both festive and just truly comfortable, long sleeves falling past Will’s hands where they cradled a cup of the overly expensive coffee Hannibal preferred. The fact that the sweater smelled like Hannibal was a bonus. 

There was soft, instrumental music coming from the record player in the other room, filling the house to the brim with its notes, only broken by the sizzling of bacon being added to a pan to go with the poached eggs Hannibal was preparing.

It was a picture of domesticity, and looking back, Will couldn’t remember a time where he was so content. 

The evening before had been unlike any holiday Will had experienced. Even knowing how Hannibal came by his meat, the food, as always, was exquisite. There was an added layer of amusement to watch Jack Crawford, his beautiful wife Bella, the lovely Alanna Bloom, all consume what they believed to be a Christmas roast. 

Which it was, just not one made of beef.

It had taken time for Hannibal to trust that he wasn’t going to run off screaming, but spending every moment together in the week that had passed since the revelation had helped, at least a little. There were still moments Will caught Hannibal looking at him, something akin to worry crossing his face, but Will refused to let those thoughts linger too long, chasing them off with a kiss or a question.

It was easy to provide Hannibal with those distractions, always easier to care for another, but inside his own head, things weren’t quite to simple. 

It was hard to look at his reflection in the mirror and know that he had spent his entire life lying to himself, running away from his potential to chase after the vision of what others wanted him to be. Harder still to know that it was all in vain. 

How much of himself had he lost? How much of himself had he hidden away… from himself? How often had he berated himself for not being _normal?_

And what did he have to show for it? His camouflage into every day society was never good enough to keep people at ease, no matter how hard he tried. 19 years of lies, to himself, to the world. 

The only saving grace was his age. He was young, there was so much time ahead of him. Regardless of when or if or how things ended with Hannibal, he was going to make the best of it. No more running from his own mind. Never again.

It was like a veil had lifted, both from Hannibal, allowing him to step past it and into more of the man’s gloriously twisted mind, and from himself. Several times over the week, he felt as though his skin was too tight for his body, that there was something inside of him finally stretching its muscles. He dreamed that there were antlers growing from his body— large, vicious things, black as pitch and deadly. 

It was beautiful. 

After breakfast, they curled up on the couch in the study again. Hannibal had built up the fire, and Will felt the warmth sinking into his bones, making him drowsy. 

“Oh, I got you something,” Hannibal said, tapping Will’s shoulder lightly to get him to move. He came back to the couch quickly with a small, rectangular box that he handed to Will.

“Hannibal… you said we weren’t doing presents. I didn’t… I mean, I thought…”

“Will,” Hannibal said gently, “It’s okay. I saw this and I thought of you. Besides, you were going to end up getting me something, that’s why you went to Tobias’ shop. I am more than happy to count your survival of that night as a the best gift you could have given me. Now… Please, open it.”

Will undid the silver ribbon and split the tape as gently as he could, peeling away the midnight blue wrapping paper. He opened the lid to the box inside and his breath left him at once in a gasp.

It was a hunting knife with a black leather sheath and a handle that could only have come from a deer antler, stained black as well. The blade was no longer than 4”, with a marbled metal effect. It was Damascus, of course, even Will could see that. The craftsmanship was everything Will had come to expect of Hannibal and then some. It was like Hannibal had climbed inside of his dreams and pulled a piece of them into the living world.

“Hannibal, this is—.”

“One more thing…” Hannibal cut Will off and reached into his pocket. 

“No, Hannibal, this is already—. _Oh._ ”

It was a key, a simple house key, on a red silk ribbon. Hannibal placed it in Will’s hand that was not holding the knife and closed his fingers around it. 

“I wanted you to know that you have a home here as well, whenever you need or want it. The door will always open for you, Will.”

The tears burned Will’s eyes, and he let them fall instead of brushing them away. The knife was beautiful and the key was a phenomenal gesture, but more than anything, the trust the two gifts showed would have brought Will to his knees if he had been standing. As it was, the only thing he could do was set the knife to the side and throw his arms around Hannibal’s neck, knocking them both back against the couch cushions. 

“Thank you, Hannibal. For trusting me, with all of this. With all of _you._ ”

Hannibal’s arms came up and wrapped around Will to hold him tightly. “And thank you, Will, for seeing all of me and loving me in spite of it.”

They didn’t need words after that.


End file.
